


Don't Rain On My Parade

by ThorinBilbo



Category: Glee, Sons of Anarchy
Genre: And also I really wanted to try out this idea, Eventual Romance, F/M, Glee drama, M/M, Multi, Rachel Berry is everything to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-11-27 02:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorinBilbo/pseuds/ThorinBilbo
Summary: Charming was the cow town she could never escape. With the death toll constantly climbing and her popularity continuously plummeting, Rachel Berry finds herself on the brink of a breakdown. The town was covered in outlaw bikers with cruel intentions that revved up their engines each time they passed by a promiscuously dressed girl. Rachel was not one of them. With her plaid skirts and knee high socks, she was pretty well known as the simple daughter of two gay men. That was all she was seen as, other than her classmates deeming her a nuisance. With graduation around the corner, she envisions herself in New York City performing besides her best friend and seeing her boyfriend in the audience cheering her on. But nobody really leaves Charming. It always seemed no matter how far you got, you'd be pulled back in.





	1. Charming

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I do not condone nor support Lea Michele as a person any longer after recent revelations have come up on her personality and morals. She is a racist and should be called as such. I do not associate Rachel Berry at all with Lea Michele because Rachel would very much be disgusted with Lea, as Ryder Lynn would with Blake Jenner for being an abuser and Noah Puckerman with Mark Salling for being a pedophile. Please don't think I like Lea or support her in any way.

Charming, California was the very bane of her existence for a number of reasons. Rachel Berry was sick of it there. She hated the people, the corrupt police department, and the many criminals that roamed the streets. Of course, she had to be burdened with the hardship of growing up there.

Seeing as her fathers were elementary school teachers (that was how they met), there was little to no opportunity of them scraping up enough cash for them to uproot and leave. Charming was shit when it came to paying their educators.

  
Rachel hated to make them feel solemn for their situation, however. To be fair, they had it the worst. When you had people like the Nordics, a gang of white supremacists, misogynists, and homophobes walking down the same sidewalk, it was difficult to be who they were. They couldn’t hold hands or affiliate themselves with each other that didn’t make them look like anything other than coworkers.

  
And the Nordics were just the tip of the relatively huge iceberg. They had the One-Niners, the Mayans, and worst of all, the Sons of Anarchy.

  
Rachel pursed her lips. She was sitting in the middle of her final class. It was supposed to be British Literature ll, but their teacher wasn’t up for giving a lesson today and just issued a silent reading. Rachel was positive she had read the introductory line to chapter seven for the eighteenth time. Thinking of Sons of Anarchy really put a damper on her already miserable mood.

  
Charming was a small town. Everyone within its vicinity knew everyone. Rachel probably knew everyone’s first name at the grocery store without needing a glance at their nametags. Given that, that meant everybody knew everyone else’s business. That was why it was so difficult for her fathers to keep their big secret. Being born in Charming wasn’t enough; they had to be born in a gossipy neighborhood, too.

  
In this small town relied a vigilante motorcycle gang (Rachel refused to call them a club) filled with men that have been in and out of jail at every turn. Just her luck, they were the people her dad would have to go to every time his beloved Barbra had something gone wrong. Barbra was an old jeep with peeling purple paint and smelled of cinnamon.

  
Rachel refused to go to Teller-Morrow’s. She refused to even acknowledge such filth. She saw them as beneath her. She was better than them. Her entire family was. But they treated Hiram just fine. In fact, from what he told Daddy, they thought he was hilarious. Rachel just hoped he’d never let slip who he went to bed with. Samcro has never done anything that let the public know they were personally prejudiced, but Rachel wouldn’t put it past them to be disgusted over gay men.

  
The club has been there since she was born. They were well known in Charming, and she also knew they had the police department eating from the palms of their hands. It was unclear as to why. Rachel often wondered if they had some dirt on their police chief, Wayne Unser. Whatever the truth, Sons of Anarchy were far from leaving.

They were a big part as to why Rachel wanted to leave.

  
The other gangs weren’t as present as Samcro was, and that could be because they made it as such. It wasn’t a secret that the Mayans and them were rivals. Rachel just hated knowing she lived in a town where these men could do as they pleased and actually got praised for it. She had heard from a few girls in the locker room during gym that they sometimes prowled around the school parking lot scavenging for Crow Eaters. That was just a nicey-nice word for whores that barely became legal.

  
They also happened to be an obstacle between herself and her home. Her dads had signed on for an after-school program, so they could no longer go pick Rachel up when school finished. They didn’t really see this as an issue because Charming High and their house weren’t too far apart. That being said, they tend to forget that Teller-Morrow’s was in the exact middle of both.

  
Normally, a student would just burden a fellow classmate and companion to sport a ride, but Rachel Berry was a well-known nuisance on campus. To put it bluntly, nobody liked her. Girls drew pornographic pictures of her on the bathroom walls, and the boys would shove her into lockers when the teachers turned a blind eye. So, with all that rounded up, Rachel was forced to walk by the auto-shop every single day and risk being seen by one of those heathens.

  
But that would end soon. Senior year wasn’t exactly a victory lap for herself, but Rachel knew come graduation, her fathers would finally do right by her and send her off to New York where she belonged, and she’d never have to see Charming again. Rachel Barbra Berry had so many dreams that were too big for Charming.

  
Rachel could sing. Of course, many people could sing, but none of them were Rachel. She had a range that could rival a number of celebrities. She had the passion, the work effort, and the determination to take her all the way to NYADA, her dream university that only took a fair few amount of people each year. She had sent her applications this past summer and wouldn’t hear back for another few good months. Rachel often watched anxiously each morning when her father would bring the mail in.

  
NYADA would help her stay out of Charming. Many Tony winners and nominations had come from behind those doors. Some even worked there. If Rachel could attend just one semester, she would be able to stay in New York where she belonged and never have to hear about the Sons, the Mayans, the One-Niners, the Nordics, or any of the idiots at her school ever again.

  
“Alright, class,” Mrs. Evelyn interrupted her inner mantra. “I expect your essays to be placed on my desk by Friday. Be sure to include Jane Austen’s dialect and her feelings for her characters this time. Make it personal! Class is dismissed. Be sure to get home safe.”

  
The bell rang at the perfect time. She had always timed her last speeches very well. There was a unanimous clamber from everyone putting their things away and racing for the door. Rachel took a little longer than necessary, but she knew at this time gym had finished for Sue Sylvester’s cheerleaders, too. She really didn’t want to chance running into the co-captains. As said before, nobody really liked Rachel Berry for a number of reasons, but those two girls made it a mission to make her life in Charming hell.

  
Quinn Fabray was the top bitch at Charming High. She was beautiful, involved with the community, and she had the quarterback of the football team all to herself. Santana Lopez was her right-hand, and she was probably even more dangerous than Quinn was, but the blonde kept her on a good leash. Santana was gorgeous, too, but she had recently come out as gay, holding Brittany Pierce’s hand tightly in the halls and daring anyone to say something. Rachel hated her with a passion, but even she was slightly worried for her. Coming out in Charming was a dangerous thing.

  
Zipping up her pink backpack and grabbing the handle, she calmly got up and trudged towards the door with her head hung. Mrs. Evelyn didn’t acknowledge her. The halls were crowded with excited students that just wanted to get home. Boys in varsity jerseys and girls in cheerleading uniforms were nowhere to be found.

Rachel, wanting to take advantage of the situation, turned toward the southern wing where the nearest exits were.

  
Her footsteps were quick, and she weaved through the crowd of students with ease thanks to her tiny form. She really thought she was home free until a driving force sent her right into the rightmost lockers. Her head spinning, she stood upright and tried to see who her attacker was this time. Always on time, Dave Karofsky heaved as he smirked at her.

  
“Where you think you’re goin’, Berry? Almost forgot about us?” he asked, slightly short of breath. He seriously needed to lose weight if something as simple as throwing a girl into lockers took his breath away. “That’s gonna cost ya.”

  
“L-Look, Karofsky, I just need to get home. Can we not just continue this conversation tomorrow when I’m far more awake? It’s the end of the day,” Rachel meekly protested, gripping her bag even tighter. He seemed to be tailed by Azimio and Noah Puckerman.

Azimio was a boy shaped similarly to Karofsky with dark skin and a varsity jacket that had far more patches. He was beloved by everyone in the athletic department in their school. Noah Puckerman was leaner, but more muscled. He was tall, sporting an expertly cut mohawk that made him look even more stupid than before. He also wore a varsity jacket.

  
“We’re men of our word, Berry, we’ll back off as soon as you pay the late fee.” Azimio stated, cracking his knuckles. Rachel knew he wouldn’t put his hands on her. The boys never punched her before or slapped her around. Being shoved into lockers seemed to be just enough for them. That didn’t stop her from feeling slightly intimidated.

  
“Late fee? What late fee?”

  
The boys parted down the middle, and Rachel shrieked as she felt the icy cold sensation of a slushy being thrown into her face. It splattered down her front, staining her blouse and plaid skirt. Her hair slumped from the wetness, and Rachel was sure it would become really sticky in a few moments. Blinking several times in an attempt to get the slush out of her eyes, she saw she had become the victim of a blue slush. Just perfect. The worst one.

  
“Pleasure doing business with you, Berry,” the unknown football player sneered, dropping the cup at her feet and high fiving the boys around him as they walked off.

  
The boys shoved the girls into lockers, and that was the only violence they really saw. To make up for their lack of punching, slapping, and kicking, they threw dollar market slushies into their faces. Rachel wasn’t their only victim, but she was their favorite.

Mouth shaking miserably, she kicked the cup across the hall and grabbed her bag’s handle once more as she rushed to get to the exits before anymore students laughed at her.

  
Rachel Berry could not stand Charming High.  
She burst through the doors, trying to keep her tears at bay just as she ran into someone on the way out. Thankfully, they were pretty sturdy, so they didn’t go tumbling to the ground. She did manage to stain their front in a faded blue hue. It took her a few moments to realize this stranger was also wearing a varsity jacket.

  
“No!” she protested, pushing him away from her and trying to move around.

  
“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong? What are you-? You’re covered in slushy, damn,” the familiar voice observed as he tried to grab her arm. “Are you okay? Do you wanna go get cleaned off? You can probably barely see…”

  
Finn Hudson, the quarterback of the football team. Just Rachel’s luck. She hated Mondays.

  
“I just need to get home and wash off. I don’t have time to stop in the school bathrooms. Those things are filthy already,” Rachel scoffed, yanking her arm from him. “And since I know you and those hooligans run on the same field, I want you to tell them that they can throw every slushy at me, but that won’t take away from the fact that they all share one brain cell and the football team sucks with and without them!”

  
“Um…okay, but I don’t think I can remember all of that,” Finn murmured. “Are you okay? Do you need to call your parents or something?”

  
“I’m fine,” Rachel snapped, walking down the stone steps to get to the crosswalk. She was annoyed that he had followed. “I just need to get home.”

  
“I can drive you,” he offered. “I have a towel you can sit on. We would just have to wait for my girlfriend, Quinn, because I always drive her home-“

  
“No! Nope! I’m fine!” Rachel said urgently, whipping around to face him. She grimaced at the way her hair felt heavy from the slush’s impact. “You wouldn’t want to keep Quinn waiting. Thanks so much, anyway, Finn.”

  
Without giving him much more room to respond, she sped down the crosswalk, ignoring the many car honks that followed because she went at the wrong time. Once she got to the other side, she chanced a glance over her shoulder toward him. He was still watching her curiously, his face contorted in concern and curiosity. Suppressing a blush, she continued walking.

  
Everyone at their high school knew about Finn Hudson. He was Charming High’s golden boy. Despite having a terrible team, he was still the best of the worst. He was cute, a complete idiot, and he happened to be Quinn Fabray’s property. Rachel did not want to imagine what a drive would be like with the two of them; Rachel grimaced at the fact Finn offered a towel for her to sit on.

  
Rachel sighed as she sped walked down the sidewalk in front of the many shops. People that walked calmly beside her stopped and watched in awe. Rachel normally cleaned herself off after a slushy facial, but today was not her day. Nobody offered to help the way Finn had, and that made her feel slightly better about their interaction.

  
She had a few classes with him, but the two often sat on opposite sides. Rachel normally never paid him no mind. She thought him a foolish jock that could barely conjugate sentences well; it was a well-known fact that the teachers passed the football players no matter what in order to let them play.

  
Anyway, Finn never really paid her much mind either. He definitely didn’t participate when the football players and cheerleaders ragged on her. Rachel did know he participated in bullying some of the other students, like Kurt Hummel, for example. Rachel had yet to cross paths with him, but rumors flew around that they often threw Kurt into the dumpster behind Teller-Morrow’s hoping he’d get in trouble for being on Samcro’s property. Rachel didn’t know if it was true or not.

  
But he had never done anything to harm her.  
She smiled slightly. Maybe that made her feel slightly better.

  
The journey home felt a lot stickier and colder than it normally did. Rachel was regretting not cleaning herself up. But she wouldn’t put herself at any sort of risk that Quinn Fabray or Santana Lopez would see her. There’s no telling how they would’ve reacted to seeing their favorite target covered in a blue slush.

  
Rachel grumbled slightly, waiting at the next crosswalk. She barely realized once she crossed this street, she would be passing Teller-Morrow’s. She was far too angry over today to really comprehend her movements.  
The light glowed white, signaling for her to go. Gripping her bag even tighter, she sped walked past a nice-looking SUV and Yukon, staring down at the sidewalk and passing a long-gated fence. She was about to cross the opening when she heard the roar of a motorcycle and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  
She would’ve been run over had she not stopped.

  
“Shit! Sorry!” her near killer protested, skidding the bike to a stop a few feet in front of her. He was burly and thick, wearing a helmet to hide his face. Rachel recognized the symbols on his vest and noticed something dangerous prodding from his right side. These men carried. “Oh, doll, you look like shit.”

  
Rachel’s mouth tightened into a thin line. She has never associated herself with these people before. She never wanted to. And now she was standing directly across one of them that was eyeing her in pity when she was usually the one to do that.

  
“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered, backing up slightly. “I was just walking home.”

  
“What the hell happened to you?”

  
“Nothing. Just a joke,” Rachel defended, brushing a line of hair behind her ear.

  
“You look like one of them Avatar’s nut sacks.”

  
“Gee, thanks.” Rachel huffed. “Look, I just need to get home. If I could just get past you…”

  
“Tig! Tigger!”

  
Just great. Another witness to Rachel’s demise. She didn’t know whether or not she was thankful this one was a woman. A few moments passed before she entered Rachel’s field of vision. She was extremely tall with a head full of raven hair brushing down her shoulders in light waves. Her eyes were fierce and her lips a light pink hue. She wore a low-cut t-shirt underneath a leather jacket. Her jeans were neatly pressed, and her boots looked as though she could strut in them and make any man’s head turn. She was clutching a sheet of paper in her hand as she handed it to the man on the bike, who was still staring at Rachel as though he never seen anything like her.

  
“Oh, shit. What happened to you?” she asked, looking down at Rachel in disgust. “Tig, is she another wanderer?”

  
“Think she’s one of the high school’s chickies,” the man replied, gazing down at the paper. “The hell is this?”

  
“Things I need you to get for the dinner tonight. If you’re late, you don’t get to come. Hurry,” the woman ushered. Rachel decided to take the opportunity to sidle around the two to get to the other side and back on her journey home. “Stop! Why are you covered in that blue shit?”

  
“Like I told him, it was simply a joke my classmates pulled. I can take care of myself well enough back at home where my shower and other clothes are. Excuse me,” Rachel sighed, not caring if she sounded rude at this point. She was beyond frustrated and horrified she was even speaking to the people she had spent so long avoiding. She had been so successful beforehand. Damn you, football team!

  
“Tig, give the girl a ride home on your way to the store,” she ordered.

  
“Gem, if you want me to be on time for this dinner-“

  
“You will do as you’re told. The poor thing looks like she’s drenched. I’d hose her off if I didn’t want the water bill to go up,” ‘Gem’ snapped, before nodding to Rachel. “Give him your address, sweetheart. It’s in my good nature to make sure someone as young as you gets home on time.”

  
Rachel wanted to object, but a ride home sounded a lot better than walking even longer like this. She gazed at the motorcyclist worryingly. He patted the spot behind him.

  
“Climb on, sweet cheeks,” he said. Rachel closed her eyes, hugging her bag to herself, before she finally gave in and stumbled onto the bike, maneuvering her bag so it would stay on for the ride. She hesitantly hooked her arms around his waist. He grabbed her hands and readjusted them, embarrassing her even more. “I’ll see you tonight, Gemma!”

  
With that, he kicked the bike into life again and turned right.


	2. Barbra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charming was the cow town she could never escape. With the death toll constantly climbing and her popularity continuously plummeting, Rachel Berry finds herself on the brink of a breakdown. The town was covered in outlaw bikers with cruel intentions that revved up their engines each time they passed by a promiscuously dressed girl. Rachel was not one of them. With her plaid skirts and knee high socks, she was pretty well known as the simple daughter of two gay men. That was all she was seen as, other than her classmates deeming her a nuisance. With graduation around the corner, she envisions herself in New York City performing besides her best friend and seeing her boyfriend in the audience cheering her on. But nobody really leaves Charming. It always seemed no matter how far you got, you'd be pulled back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her eyes dazzled in anger as she looked up at him, her hand still tightened on her pink pepper spray. The liquid in it sloshed obnoxiously, interrupting their tensed silence. His blonde canopy of hair brushed down past his ears and cascaded down his face in fine waves. Rachel was sure the girls could see her still, their mouths wide and agape with shock. How modest Rachel Berry could get him of all people to stop everything was beyond them. Not to mention he wasn't even the only one. Rachel's mouth shook, giving her nerves away in one fell swoop. "Don't be afraid, darlin'," he urged calmly, his mouth etching up into a smirk.

“Where am I going, sweetheart?” ‘Tig’ asked once they came to the first stoplight.

“1228, East Welshing Street!” Rachel answered, ducking her head as cars began to pull up around the sides of them. This was so humiliating. If any of her classmates or even her fathers saw her on the back of a Samcro man’s bike, she could kiss any chance of redemption goodbye. Then again, this got her to her humble abode a lot quicker so she can get out of these disgusting clothes. 

“Oh, shit, so you’re real close!” he replied, his tone still friendly. “So why are you really covered in that crap?”

Rachel’s mouth pursed. That was a habit she needed to grow out of. Did she really want to humiliate herself even more? Then again, why should she feel ashamed? He was the one that should feel ashamed. He was a biker that probably has a list of warrants against him a mile long. Rachel had to remind herself that she was better than him. She was going to New York when this year ended. He was stuck here in Charming, probably for the rest of his life with nothing but his biker buddies to accompany him. 

“There’s a trend at my school that the male student body have eagerly taken on to put the female students in their place. Our high school is neighbors with a gas station that happens to sell a variety of slushies. Instead of using violence the way they do to the less popular males, they throw slushes in our faces. I was the subject of a blue one, obviously,” Rachel explained over the roar of the engine as the motorcycle took off again. 

“Jeez, that was a mouthful,” he commented idly. “Pretty shitty, though, if you ask me. Don’t know what the hell I would do if someone tried that shit on me. Wouldn’t end pretty. You didn’t do anything to defend yourself?”

“I didn’t see a need to.”

“Someone throws a cup full of cold ice and you don’t see a need to react?”

Rachel tightened her grip in irritation. If it hurt him, he didn’t let her know. Instead, he took a left down Dutch Avenue, where the final right turn would put them on her street. 

Should she have reacted? Really, what could she had done that would’ve impacted Karofsky, Azimio, and Puckerman the way they had done her? Snitching to the staff isn’t really an option. Their intolerance for violence may be high, but the bully policies were shit by comparison. Hardly any justice was done for those that were harassed by other students. Instead, they got pre-meditated, configurated excuses that pretty much told the student to suck it up and get over it. 

Not that Rachel has ever gone to the staff, pleading with them to strike justice for her many humiliations at the hands of the football players and cheerleaders. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction that they’ve gotten to her. Did retaliation truly count as an indication that they’ve managed to get under Rachel Berry’s skin? Or was she truly too cowardly to do anything about it that she was willing to endure the worst of the worst before she’d eventually kiss Charming goodbye for good? 

“I like to be the bigger person,” she eventually lied, her tone restrained. 

“That right?” ‘Tig’ asked, sounding amused. Rachel didn’t press to continue to the subject at hand. Instead she clenched her thighs tighter around the seat she was clinging to as the motorcycle slowed to a stop right at the end of Dutch Avenue, remaining for a moment before he took a right down her street. Bricked houses and sloppily painted fences passed in a blur as he zoomed down the street toward the last on the right, which was her home. Rachel was slightly grateful that no cars were in the driveways to her neighbors. Nobody could snitch to anyone that they saw Rachel Barbra Berry on the back of a Samcro’s bike. If word got out, Rachel was unsure what would happen. 

One house…two…one more… 

The bike came to a halt in front of her home. With shaky legs, she peeled herself off the back of his bike and gripped her bag close to her. He met her gaze easily, the leering grin on his ruggedly handsome face doing nothing to help calm Rachel’s nerves as she stuttered a thank you. As hateful as she was to the Sons, she was not completely impolite. She would still be walking home right now if he hadn’t given her a ride. 

“No problem, doll,” he said, “And, look…try not to puss out when those douches gang up on ya. Ain’t like them staff is doin’ anything to stop this shit from happenin’ to begin with. May as well take that advantage to show ‘em you ain’t just a…tasty broad in tiny skirts.” 

Rachel sputtered indignantly as he kicked his bike back into life and took off. The smoke emitting from his bike made her cough and heave, completely forgetting that she was just rendered flustered by a man of Samcro. What was she doing? What has she done, more like? Waving a hand in front of her face to get that putrid smell out of her nose, Rachel turned on her heel and marched toward the latch on her fence that would allow her onto the pathway that would lead her to her front porch. 

Hours later, Rachel was sitting on the end of her bed wearing her pink pajamas with her wet hair dripping down her front as she typed rapidly on her computer. Her fathers hadn’t come home yet. That must mean they were really busy, and she should really be courteous by starting dinner. Instead, Rachel was scrolling down Facebook with her lip squished beneath her front teeth. 

Finn Hudson’s face was beaming back at her from his photo at the last game. Charming had suffered another loss, but that didn’t stop the idiot from grinning ear to ear with his arms thrown over Puckerman and Mike Chang’s shoulders. Rachel couldn’t help but smile as she ran a hand down the screen, grazing slightly over his face. Rachel Berry had officially succumbed to the handsomeness of Finn Hudson.

As Rachel continued to scroll, she couldn’t suppress the grimace as she got to a photo with Finn holding Quinn Fabray close. It was from junior year prom. Rachel didn’t go. Nobody had asked her, and she refused to go and stand by herself while everyone else around her danced with either their significant others or their close companions while she was stuck being by herself. 

Finn had worn a black tux, neatly pressed with a silver aster boutonniere. Quinn had the same flower around her wrist. Her dress glowed, even from the picture. She looked like Cinderella. And, of course, Finn Hudson made the perfect Prince Charming. Rachel tightened her lips, quickly clicking out of the window and shutting her computer completely. She should’ve been more careful. Of course Finn would brandish his beautiful girlfriend all over his Facebook page. Why wouldn’t he? Quinn Fabray was absolutely perfect with her golden hair, sparkling green eyes, and thin body. 

Huffing irritably, Rachel got to her feet and marched over to her door, yanking open the door and walking toward the staircase with her slippers digging noisily into the carpet. The journey to the bottom floor took only a few seconds. Rachel quickly rounded the corner once more to gain access to the kitchen. It was quite possibly the cleanest room in the house. 

Her father, Hiram, was a dedicated audience to Rachael Ray, and he wanted to pretty much recreate her kitchen set up in his own home. However, whenever he tried to match all of her crazy recipes, it always ended up with Rachel and LeRoy faking elation as they tried to choke it down. That was why they were normally strictly committed to take out until Hiram insisted his diet could take it no longer. Since Rachel was a committed vegan, the food they had in the house was meant to cater to it. It didn’t help that it also catered to her daddy’s diet, too. 

Opening the cabinets and the refrigerator, Rachel quickly moved about to gathering whatever it took to fix the meal her parents as well as herself would enjoy. Once she had the stove switched on and all the measuring spoons and cups out for display, she set to work. Her mind was finally rid of Finn and Quinn’s smiling faces, instead swapped toward making sure she measured enough rice for the bowl and each slice of bell peppers were exactly the same. 

That didn’t stop her mind from wandering to the men wandering about Teller-Morrow’s, however.

Rachel had been going through Facebook as well as every other piece of social media her high school became accustomed to use. There was no sign of sudden discovery that Rachel Berry was found on the back of Samcro’s motorcycle. Rachel was relieved, but she still couldn’t help but feel a slight shiver up her spine at the memory of the motorcycle’s roar. 

She knew she wasn’t attracted to ‘Tig’ by any stretch of the word. That being said, she didn’t hate him as much as she hated him (or the gang in general) several hours ago. Whether she was grateful for ‘Gem’ that forced him to give her the ride or for how he insisted she stick up for herself toward the cronies she went to school with, Rachel’s bitterness thinned ever so slightly. 

She stirred the rice thoroughly, pouring a generous amount of the spice that would compliment the bell peppers quite nicely once she would add them. 

Her mind still surrounded the leather jacket wearers, however, until she heard the click of the lock at the front door and her father popping his face in with a tired, but ecstatic grin. Rachel wiped her hand on a towel before she quickly went to greet them. 

“Hey, Daddy,” Rachel smiled, throwing her arms around him as he pecked her forehead. 

“Oh, darling, you won’t believe what your poor father put me through. What are those parents teaching those kids? I had to spend twenty minutes with little Gregory just to convince him that his hamster didn’t actually run away to a hamster farm,” Hiram huffed, patting her head softly before wandering to the kitchen in search of his favorite wine. “Something smells good.”

“I decided to cook tonight,” Rachel said, following him. “Where’s Dad?”

“Had to go around the block after dropping me off. Um…Mrs. Vivienne happened to be taking in some groceries and we couldn’t risk her seeing,” he explained, his tone slightly tense. Rachel gnawed on her bottom lip. Her hatred for Charming was quickly resurfacing and replacing her sudden appreciation for the Sons of Anarchy. 

“Well, everything will be ready in about a half hour,” Rachel mumbled. 

“Fantastic. I should go see if that Rachael Ray made it to my DVR. LeRoy’s been deleting my shows as of late,” Hiram grumbled, putting the wine bottle back into the fridge after pouring himself a glass. Tipping it gracefully to his lips, he floated off, leaving Rachel to fume silently by the counter. 

Mrs. Vivienne lived down the street. She was an old white woman that had around twelve cats, each of them expertly named after a month in the year. According to her, February was a real jerk. Anyway, she was well known for her prejudice. Her nephew happened to be Ernest Darby, the one that personally led the Nordics, a gang most notoriously known for their personal preferences. Rachel was extremely grateful he only visited Mrs. Vivienne once in a blue moon. It wasn’t just about her fathers being gay. Rachel was also fearful they’d discover she was of Jewish descent, too. But Mrs. Vivienne mostly remained alone with her many cats. That didn’t stop her from peering over garden fences to spy on her neighbors when her soap operas were on commercial. 

If she so much as looked at either of her dads with her chapped lips pulled into a sneer, Rachel was ready to take it to law enforcement. She didn’t much like Unser or Hale, the two most uniformed of their department, but she knew they’d step in if she felt threatened. 

The door opened again, this time revealing LeRoy, Rachel’s other father. He seemed even more tired than his husband. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to her head. “You’re making dinner? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Rachel declared firmly. “Daddy’s in the living area watching Rachael Ray. I’ll call you when everything’s ready.”

“Oh, damn. I thought I blocked that from our channel list,” LeRoy sighed, turning toward the other room and exiting. 

Rachel smiled, shaking her head. Getting back in the zone, she quickly got back to cooking, completely forgetting about the Sons of Anarchy, about Finn Hudson and Quinn Fabray, and about the football players ruining another outfit of hers that her dads worked so hard to afford. Soon, the three of them were at the dinner table eating quietly with occasional quips about one another’s day until it was time for bed. Enduring another long bedtime routine, Rachel returned to her bed and opened her computer before she’d finally go to bed. 

She decided she’d finish up some homework before she’d officially hit the hay. She was stuck on Mrs. Evelyn’s important essay. It wasn’t technically due until Friday, but Rachel liked to be on top of things. She was stuck on how she wanted to format it when she heard three knocks on her door, whipping her out of her homework zone. 

“Come in,” she called, shutting her computer out of habit.   
  
LeRoy poked his head in. “Hey, sweetheart.”  
  
“Hey, Dad. Is something wrong?”  
  
“No, no. Well…a coworker of ours is going to carpool tomorrow because our wing is going to have to attend a mandatory conference with the superintendent to discuss lesson plans that the parents wanted officially incorporated into the curriculum. We’ll still be in town, but Reginald is insisting he drive everyone to be courteous. I think he’s just doing it so someone can offer to buy him lunch. This means you’ll be able to take Barbra tomorrow to and from school.”  
  
“Really? Oh, that’d be perfect,” Rachel gushed, suddenly feeling elated. She wouldn’t have to walk home tomorrow? Not to mention she actually got to keep Barbra for the remainder of the day? This day had started out terribly, but it just turned around completely for tomorrow. “Thank you, Dad.”  
  
“No problem, sweetie. She should be filled up, but you know what to do if she’s stuck on E. Alright, well, I’m going to attempt to get your father turned in before he has another ‘night wine’. Goodnight, sweetie.”  
  
“Night, Dad. Love you.”  
  
“I love you, too.”   
  
He shut her door, and she could hear his footsteps disappearing down the hall back to his and her father’s bedroom. Rachel couldn’t help but pump a fist at this. This meant she could do a lot tomorrow if she had the car. She’d been needing to pay a visit to Sheets ‘n Things for weeks now, but her fathers were always too busy to take her. She had run out of sheet music for her repertoire. She was due to scout the NYADA website any day now for any confirmation email that they accepted her application and would send someone down for her face-to-face audition. She needed far more options than she had now.   
  
She went to sleep a lot happier than she had woken up.   
  
Rachel didn’t often dream. When she did, it normally consisted of the normal hormonal teenage things with random faces she’d automatically recognize and feel either a common likeness or complete loathing. Sometimes she even found herself on a Broadway stage, belting her heart out as she watched the audience applaud her, wiping the tears from their faces as they praised everything Rachel Berry.   
  
But tonight was different.   
  
Rachel felt like the leather was slightly choking her. But she wore the jacket well. The symbols lining her back instantly put off passersby, the lot of them leaping out of the way to avoid crossing paths with her. She was being tailed by the both of them, and she knew their leering smirks were directed from their own arrogance that they had officially won the argument.   
  
“Try not to feel too ecstatic, Berry,” the one on the left smirked, “Clay still hasn’t seen you.”  
  
“I don’t think he’ll be too happy once he does,” Rachel replied.   
  
“Maybe not. But it’s good enough.”   
  
Rachel’s alarm was always so infuriatingly loud. She startled awake, her upper body flying up as her messy hair blinded her. Groaning irritably, she quickly switched off the alarm and slammed her head back into the pillows. What the hell was that? Rachel has never had a dream anything like that. She didn’t even know what the premise of it was supposed to be.   
  
Who the hell was Clay? Rachel mumbled incoherently, trying to put her dream back together piece by piece, but it was already escaping her memory. It was another five minutes before she completely forgot what she was so angry about. Sitting up and peeling back her comforter, she slipped on her house shoes and shuffled lazily toward her bathroom.   
  
The lack of arguing in the other room plainly told her that her fathers had left for the day. She wondered slightly how they managed to do keep their personal relationship hidden if they were being picked up at the same place. Deciding not to question it, Rachel jumped into her morning routine of washing her face, brushing her teeth, and pulling on her exercise clothes just before she jumped onto her elliptical and set to work, staring determinedly at the wall opposite her exercise machine. Taped to it was a poster for NYADA, encouraging students to apply despite it being so difficult to get into. Rachel, however, would get into it at any and all costs.   
  
She worked at the elliptical for a good half hour before she got off and went to take a shower before getting ready for the school day. Her mind had completely gotten off of her dream by the time she was slipping on her pink cardigan and brown plaid skirt. Staring at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath, flattening her hair to the best of her ability and giving an award-winning smile. Today was going to be a great day.   
  
Emitting a soft sigh, she exited her bathroom and went to grab her bag, extending the bar handle so she could roll it easier and exited her room. She would probably run into the football players again today. Either them or the cheerleaders. They’re probably going to laugh themselves silly at the reminder that Rachel was the victim of a blue slushy yesterday. Well, let them laugh. Rachel was going to hold her head high and keep her spirits up.   
  
The keys were left on the kitchen counter for her to grab. Barbra was waiting outside in the driveway for her, springing to life as Rachel pressed the key into the ignition before she peeled out and turned towards the school. Today was so much better now that she had the car. She couldn’t wait to go to Sheets ‘n Things later. Absolutely giddy now, Rachel turned the radio on and maneuvered it to her favorite station and began to belt out the chorus, matching pitch to the best of her ability.   
  
The day was beautiful. The sun was shining hot down on Charming with not a cloud in sight. Looking around, she could see several people walking down the sidewalk, all with smiles and good energy. That was a sign that Rachel was going to have a good day at school for once. Perhaps she would make better haste in escaping the football players. Better yet, she might not see them at all. As for Quinn Fabray and the rest of the cheerleading squad, she just hoped they all chose Tuesday to feel sick and choose to stay home, but Rachel understood the only way to skip out on cheerleading practice with Coach Sylvester was to be dead. And, even then, you have to give the rain check days in advance.  
  
She pulled up to a stoplight, pressing gently on the brakes and humming merrily. Rachel looked around as more and more cars pulled up beside and behind her, all either going the same way or trying their best to get to work on time. Rachel sighed contentedly. She felt good, if her attitude before couldn’t reveal that on its own.   
  
The light turned green.   
  
Smiling, Rachel pressed on the gas.   
  
Barbra didn’t move.   
  
Smile faltering, Rachel pressed harder and met the same results. She noticed how the radio was malfunctioning as well, stuttering over the lyrics just before it shut off completely. Cars began to honk behind her, urging her to hurry and move along. Biting her lip, Rachel pressed on the gas again only for the front of the car to begin smoking. Damn.  
  
Opening her door, she pressed her hand out and waved it hastily, plainly telling the cars to go around her because she wasn’t moving any time soon. The cars obliged, turning into the turning lane just to get around her, some of the drivers not being too kind about the delay. Rachel whined, sinking deep into the driver’s seat. So much for a good day. Turning the car off and stepping out, Rachel closed the door and walked to the front of the car, opening the hood and coughing irritably as the smoke invaded her nostrils.   
  
She didn’t know a thing about how to fix a car. She couldn’t even tell what was wrong with it. She pulled out her cellphone to check the time. She had ten minutes to get to class before she was late. Since this was the only car her parents owned, she couldn’t call them and ask for help.   
  
Kicking at Barbra angrily, she turned around and dialed three digits before pressing the phone to her ears.   
  
“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asked. It was a woman.   
  
“Yeah, I’m stuck at a stoplight downtown from the high school and my car is smoking and refuses to move. I don’t know what to do. The other drivers are honking and being rude,” Rachel whined, kicking the car again as if that’d do anything. “Can you please just send someone down to help?”  
  
“Okay, sweetie, I’m going to need a street name.”  
  
After giving the dispatcher her location, Rachel hung up and closed the hood, turning to lean on it. Rubbing her temples, she tried to calm herself down. She couldn’t blame her fathers for this. How would they know that something like this would happen? Why was there always something going wrong with Barbra? Huffing, Rachel looked up toward the too happy sky, feeling suddenly more irritable that it was such a pretty day that her mood had turned so sour upon.   
  
Someone was honking behind her again.   
  
“Go around!” Rachel shouted angrily, waving her arms crazily. She stopped instantly upon seeing the bike. Damn it! Everything was just going wrong in a matter of minutes. She should’ve just stayed home this morning.   
  
The bike calmly maneuvered so it was parked right beside Barbra, his helmet concealing his identity so Rachel was unsure if it was ‘Tig’ from yesterday. Personally, she would’ve preferred him to keep her from meeting any more of these men she had been ignoring just fine two days ago. It couldn’t be Tig, however. This man was far more burly in the chest. Rachel could see hints of blond hair peeking out from underneath the black helmet. Switching the bike off, he finally stood up and took it off. Rachel’s eyes widened.   
  
“Somethin’ wrong, doll?” he asked calmly, towering over her as he turned to peek at the car. “The hell happened?”   
  
Rachel sputtered. “Um…well, it…it’s just…”   
  
This biker was definitely different from Tig. For one thing, he was several years younger with a chiseled face that made Rachel want to run her hands over it. He had some stubble going around his jaw meeting to where a tuft of blond hair fell from his chin. He had blond hair that fell past his ears that didn’t look as oily as one would thing. In other words, this man was very, very handsome. The only thing that truly put her off was the fact he was wearing a Samcro cut. Sons of Anarchy was there in plain daylight on the back as he went to open the hood of Barbra without asking questions.   
  
“Shit. It’s all screwed up in here,” he stated, before looking up at her. “How long has this been happening?”  
  
“Um…well, it just happened, actually. I don’t normally drive Bar-the car. My parents normally have it and I just walk to school. Today I got to take it and this happened.” Rachel explained to the best of her ability. “Is it fixable?”  
  
“Yeah…but it’s gonna take a good few hours. Let me make a call,” he urged.   
  
“Wait, wait, I don’t want to bother you with this issue. I can just take it into a car shop and have it fixed there.”  
  
He seemed amused. “Well…I work at a car shop. Teller-Morrow’s?”   
  
Rachel went pink. Of course. How could she forget that? Smiling nervously, she nodded. “Right, yes, of course. Um…Rachel Berry.”  
  
“Jax Teller.” He was smiling, just before it faltered and he couldn’t help but ask, “Ain’t your dad Hiram?”  
  
Rachel seemed surprised. Guarded, she nodded.   
  
Jax grinned. “Really funny guy. Let me just make the call and I’ll get Piney out here to tow it back to the shop.”  
  
Rachel nodded.   
  
Just then, the two could hear a siren as a police unit pulled up. Rachel winced. She had completely forgot that she had called this in. Jax looked annoyed at who had arrived. Rachel didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable asking, so she approached the unit with a nervous smile. The sirens switched off, and a man stepped out.   
  
He seemed a few years older than Jax with a shaved head and dark blue eyes. He looked past Rachel toward Jax, appearing suspicious. He finally looked to Rachel once she addressed him.   
  
“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that help would arrive before you did. I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Rachel said.  
  
“You’re the one who called this in?” he asked. She nodded. “Name?”  
  
“Rachel Berry,” she said automatically. “Again, really sorry for the inconvenience.”   
  
He gave a forced smile. “It’s no issue, Rachel. Now…I assume you have somewhere to be. While Mr. Teller takes care of your car, I have no issue getting you to…?”  
  
“School, but…well, I can’t leave Barb-the car by itself. My parents decided to carpool with a coworker today, which left me with the car. Now that it’s…like this, I’ll have to go where it goes. It’s no issue, really. I’ve had perfect attendance until now.”  
  
The officer looked perturbed. He stole another glance at Jax before gently ushering Rachel a few feet away so they were just out of earshot.   
  
“You understand the only car shop in Charming is Teller-Morrow’s, right? Which means the Sons of Anarchy?” he questioned.   
  
Rachel looked affronted at the accusation that she was suddenly naïve. Mouth pursed, she stated, “I’m well aware of our town’s conditions with…biker gangs. But I have no choice. I’m sure I can take care of myself just fine for a couple of hours.”  
  
He looked as though he thought otherwise, but Rachel knew he couldn’t force her to go to school. In Charming, once you were eighteen, school attendance wasn’t much of a dictatorship any longer. Rachel was grateful he was concerned for her safety, but she understood that leaving the car could risk a lot of things for her and her dads. It’d be best she stay until it’s ready and be able to take off.   
  
“Okay… If you happen to run into any trouble, I’m Deputy Hale. Give me a call and more than happy to come get you,” he said, holding a hand out. Rachel begrudgingly shook it, feeling slightly offended he underestimated her so. Given that she was five foot two and a half eighteen year old school girl, it was quite obvious why Deputy Hale was being so interfering, but Rachel was going to stand her ground.   
  
“Thank you, Mr. Hale, but that probably won’t be necessary. However, I do appreciate the concern,” she said. He gave a curt nod, before turning and approaching Jax with his chest puffed out and head held high. Rachel stifled a laugh. He was still several inches smaller than the blond.   
  
“I better not hear anything down there at the clubhouse, Teller. This girl goes and leaves unharmed,” he sneered under his breath. Rachel had excellent hearing.   
  
“Are you implyin’ something, deputy?” Jax asked tauntingly.   
  
“Not at all. Just concerned for the safety of a Charming citizen,” Hale replied coolly. With that, he turned and marched back to his car, giving Rachel a final nod before he got into the driver’s seat and drove away.   
  
“Asshole pig,” Jax snapped, turning back to the car and closing the hood. “Alright, Miss Berry. I got Piney on his way with the tow truck. I can give you a lift back to the shop. S’long as you don’t mind ridin’ in the back.” He turned, giving Rachel a knee-trembling smile. She would’ve thrown herself at him had she not glanced down at what he was wearing.   
  
_Rachel goddamn Berry. Don’t you even hint at it. He’s Samcro. He’s a heathen._ _He’s beneath you. If anyone at the high school or anyone worthwhile at all saw you right now, you could kiss NYADA goodbye._  
  
"I think I'll wait for this Piney to show. I happen to not be so keen on…motorcycles,” Rachel lied terribly.   
  
He smiled, despite of it. “That’s no problem, sweetheart. Catch you at the shop.”  
  
He slipped his helmet on and turned his bike back on, giving Rachel a wave just as he drove past her in the direction of Teller-Morrow’s. He left her remembering that she forgot to thank him for going out of his way to make sure she and her car were taken care of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her eyes dazzled in anger as she looked up at him, her hand still tightened on her pink pepper spray. The liquid in it sloshed obnoxiously, interrupting their tensed silence. His blonde canopy of hair brushed down past his ears and cascaded down his face in fine waves. Rachel was sure the girls could see her still, their mouths wide and agape with shock. How modest Rachel Berry could get him of all people to stop everything was beyond them. Not to mention he wasn't even the only one. Rachel's mouth shook, giving her nerves away in one fell swoop. "Don't be afraid, darlin'," he urged calmly, his mouth etching up into a smirk.

**Author's Note:**

> Her eyes dazzled in anger as she looked up at him, her hand still tightened on her pink pepper spray. The liquid in it sloshed obnoxiously, interrupting their tensed silence. His blonde canopy of hair brushed down past his ears and cascaded down his face in fine waves. Rachel was sure the girls could see her still, their mouths wide and agape with shock. How modest Rachel Berry could get him of all people to stop everything was beyond them. Not to mention he wasn't even the only one. Rachel's mouth shook, giving her nerves away in one fell swoop. "Don't be afraid, darlin'," he urged calmly, his mouth etching up into a smirk.


End file.
